Never Over
by Maggirl93
Summary: Karofsky never gives up an opportunity to harass Kurt, even when he's on a date with his boyfriend. Rated T for language and violence. Really long oneshot.


(**A/N: More Klaine! Except, not fluffy. I don't know.)**

Kurt had been dating Blaine for months now, but there was still an inherent thrill that came with going out on actual dates with him. It always brought a surge of different thoughts—how happy it made him, the exciting fear of wondering if people are there judging him, and then the relief when he stopped caring because all he cared about is how goddamned lucky he was to have a _perfect _boyfriend and that he didn't care about people judging him or shouting their religious convictions at him because he was proud. He had an amazing boyfriend and was not afraid to be proud anymore.

Blaine's playful slap against Kurt's arm from across the table broke him out of his reverie. There was a waitress there with a small notebook. "Are you going to order something, or stare at the lovely wall décor all night?" Blaine smiled, and it was in a playful, loving manner, not a cruel teasing.

"Oh, sorry!" Kurt piqued, then looked at his menu, flustered. "Can I just have a Caesar salad?"

"Of course," the waitress replied, before scurrying off.

"What's up?" Blaine asked, a very slight look of concern in his eyes.

Kurt smiled, genuinely. "Nothing's wrong. Not a thing." And Kurt believed that with all of his mind, until he looked away from Blaine and glanced at the door, not for any particular reason, and he groaned quietly. "Shit."

Standing there in his huge glory was Karofsky himself, with the man Kurt knew to be his father and a woman that he assumed was his mother. Kurt noted that the large boy had made a pitiful attempt at dressing up, _Well, _Kurt thought bitterly, _at least he's trying to look nice in this restaurant. _Which was a very nice restaurant, too. Kurt also noted that it was very strange seeing Karofsky without his letterman jacket, which he could have sworn was biologically connected to him. Why, oh why did Karofsky always have to be where Kurt was? It was like he was created solely for the purpose of destroying every chance Kurt had of happiness.

Kurt ducked his head down and maintained eye contact with Blaine. "Don't look now, but head jockass number one just walked through the door with his parents." Blaine twitched a little, about to look, and Kurt reached across the table and put his hand on his boyfriend's cheek, pulling his face back forward. "No, seriously, don't look. If we're lucky, maybe the guy won't notice us here." The chances of him getting away with that were pretty high, too, considering they were at a booth and not that close to the door.

And then, as quickly as that feeling of security came, it was gone again as one of the hostesses led the Karofsky family to a table relatively close to their booth, and Dave was sitting in a way that he could easily see Kurt, though it appeared that they hadn't been noticed.

"Don't look," Kurt whispered. He lowered his head, still keeping an eye on the jock. "He hasn't seen me yet. I'm hoping it stays that way."

"Do you want to leave?" Blaine asked him quietly.

Kurt shook his head minutely. "I'm not going to let him ruin this night." He smiled softly, as their waitress returned to the table with their food orders. She placed the plates down and asked, "Do you boys need anything else?" She wore a fake waitressing smile.

Blaine shook his head. "No, we're good."

"Can I have another glass of water?" Kurt asked.

"No problem." The girl took his glass and walked away. As she left the line of vision, Kurt realized with a gasp of horror and a jump of his stomach that Karofsky was staring right at him. Kurt couldn't identify what kind of look Karofsky bore. It seemed to be a mixture of confusion, hatred, and—Kurt realized with a small tremor of fear—attraction. Kurt's eyes widened and he looked down.

"Did he see you?" his boyfriend asked. Kurt merely nodded. "Really, Kurt, if you want to leave, I'm sure—"

"No," Kurt replied sternly, a little louder than he should have. He almost felt Karofsky's gaze burning into him. "We're staying. If we leave, he wins."

Blaine merely pursed his lips and shook his head, grabbing his fork and starting to eat his meal.

Kurt did the same, attacking his salad. He was rather hungry, in addition to being lost in thought. He felt very lucky that they were in a booth. Karofsky couldn't see that he was with Blaine, unless he heard his voice, which was doubtful. Kurt felt a pang of guilt as he contemplated that. He was supposed to be _proud _of his boyfriend. _Proud _of their relationship, and of being loved. He wasn't supposed to be afraid, but it seemed Karofsky would never let him have the feeling of fearlessness.

He jumped slightly as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out slowly, glancing at it under the table. He knew it was rude to have his phone at dinner, but when he saw the unknown number, his curiosity got the better of him and he pulled his phone up.

"Who is it?" Blaine asked.

"I don't know," Kurt asked. "It's a text, and I don't know the number."

Blaine held out his hand silently, and Kurt placed his phone in it. He had no secrets, and he never hesitated to show Blaine his phone. It wasn't a possessive thing that Blaine was doing; there was just an openness with the two of them that was kind of unspoken. Blaine was his best friend in addition to being his boyfriend.

Kurt watched Blaine's fingers as he unlocked the touchscreen phone and opened the text. His eyes darted for a second, and he let out a noise that very much resembled a growl. Despite Kurt's silent protests, Blaine whipped his head around the side of the booth and was shooting Karofsky what Kurt imagined to be a horrible glare, though he had never seen one like it before.

Kurt reached out for his phone, but Blaine grabbed it tightly, bringing his gaze back around to his boyfriend. Kurt pouted and struggled, and even though Blaine was stronger than him, he let go easily. Kurt blamed it on the pout as he looked at the phone to read the text that he concluded was from Karofsky. It read:

_long time no see fag. i thought ud drop dead by now_

Kurt felt his eyes well up, and it felt like what little dinner he'd eaten was returning up to him. "I'll be right back," Kurt told Blaine matter-of-factly, his voice hardly wavering. "I think I'm going to throw up." He stood up, and Blaine started standing up too. "No. Stay _here._" Kurt put on the most authoritative voice he could muster, and Blaine begrudgingly sat back down. Kurt half-smiled and turned away, quickly walking towards the men's bathroom.

In the time it took him to get there and get into a stall, the wave of nausea had passed, so he no longer felt sick. He exited the stall and walked into the empty bathroom, standing in front of one of the sinks. He looked at the mirror. He didn't want to cry—he felt really ugly and small and childish when he cried—but he couldn't help it, and the tears spilled over and he didn't care. He rested his forehead against the cold glass, and just sobbed silently.

He jumped when he heard the door burst open and he spun around instantly, and his tormentor was there, quickly followed by his boyfriend. Kurt backed up quickly, hitting the doorframe of the handicapped stall.

Blaine quickly stepped in front of Karofsky, who lingered by the door. "I paid for our dinner, Kurt. Let's _go._" He grabbed Kurt's hand and tugged. Kurt was more than happy to oblige. He was purely terrified, and he didn't care about letting Karofsky win. All his courage was gone.

"Hey, now, I don't want any trouble," Karofsky said, speaking for the first time. He held up his hands in the most mocking, condescending way ever.

"Do you just live to ruin my life?" Kurt asked quietly, testing his limits.

"Chill out, _pretty boy,_" the other one spat out. "I just came here to dinner with my parents, and I had to be subjected to you guys being all faggy over each other, and it's gross."

Blaine stepped forward. "We were here first, you know," he stated.

"That doesn't fucking matter, sweetie. If you want to be little gays with your little gay love and shit, you can get a room. Nobody wants to see it."

"Look, _David_, I know you're _jealous _of us, and me, but that doesn't mean—"

"Watch it!" Karofsky threatened.

"Blaine, stop," Kurt murmured, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, why don't you take a lesson from your girlfriend here," Karofsky said.

Kurt felt Blaine tense up, and he squeezed his shoulder. "He's not worth it, Blaine," Kurt whispered in his ear.

"I heard that, you little twink!" Karofsky stepped forward, his fists clenched. "If I'm not worth it, what's that make you, huh? I'm worth more than you fags will ever be in your entire, worthless lives."

And, before Kurt could register, what was happening, _Blaine _threw the first punch. Kurt watched in horror as his fist connected with Karofsky's jaw. Instinctively, Kurt winced, and then he lunged forward, trying to pull Blaine off Karofsky. Karofsky landed two punches square in Blaine's face before Kurt could make a barrier between them, because he knew Karofsky wouldn't hit _him. _He hoped not, anyway.

Karofsky shoved Kurt, with more force than he ever had before, forcing Kurt to fall backwards onto Blaine, and they both fell onto the floor. Karofsky gave them one more dirty look and fled the bathroom.

"Blaine? Oh my god, Blaine, are you okay?" Kurt swiveled around, looking at his boyfriend sprawled beneath him. With horror, Kurt realized that Blaine's nose was bleeding. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," Kurt murmured. He got up and grabbed paper towels from the dispenser. Blaine sat up, rubbing his head, as Kurt returned to him, sitting on his lap and facing him. He neatly folded one of the paper towels and pressed it gently beneath Blaine's bleeding nose, and he placed his other hand behind his head. Blaine reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to staunch the blood flow, but he winced.

"Oh, god, Blaine, I'm so sorry," Kurt murmured. His voice felt shaky.

Blaine smiled softly. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he replied, his voice attempting to be soothing but he failed at masking his anger, and his pain at his potentially broken nose.

"Yes, I do," Kurt replied. "This is my fault, we should have left earlier, I'm sorry."

Blaine shook his head slightly, and flinched again. "No worries. Though I don't think I'll be able to rock the crooked nose and black eye."

"Do you think it's broken?" Kurt asked, warily.

Blaine shrugged. "I think there's a pretty good chance. From what I've seen on TV, it seems pretty likely."

"Well, shit," Kurt muttered. "Well, I guess we should get you some ice or something," he concluded, getting off his boyfriend's lap. "I'm sure that nice waitress will get us some."

Blaine chuckled, and accepted Kurt's offered hand, pulling himself up. He didn't let go as they exited the bathroom. Kurt's eyes shot immediately to the table where the Karofskys had been seated, but they were gone.


End file.
